Can't You Read? Sorcerers Stone
by Prongs4
Summary: The Dursleys, upon reciving Harry on that fretful day November first, locked him up in his cupboard, never to be seen by any other eyes. 10 Years later, Dudley grabs the letter for Harry, and discovers the truth. Harry goes into the wizarding world, but


"Aiiieee!" a scream rang about on four Privet Drive.  Petunia Dursley was looking at the front doorstep as if a baby was sleeping there.  Actually there _was_ a baby there, only he had been rudely awakened but a scream.  He didn't cry, though, but he looked at the woman with curious eyes.  Vernon Dursley appeared in the doorway, huffing.

"What's the matter, Petunia dear?" he asked exhausted.

Petunia said nothing, but she pointed at the door.  The baby gurgled happily.  Vernon looked at it as if it were a piece of dung on the sidewalk.

"What is it?" he snarled.  Petunia shrugged and picked up a letter the baby was holding.  The envelope, made of parchment, had a seal.  It was a lion, serpent, badger, and raven surrounding an H.  She broke it, and read the letter aloud.

_Dear Mr. And Mrs. Vernon Dursley._

_It is my shameful displeasure to announce to you that your relatives, Lily and James Potter have passed away.  A dark wizard named Voldemort _(Petunia shivered a bit.  She remembered this name as the person who had murdered her parents) _has killed them.  Oddly enough, when he turned to young Harry here, the curse, which had destroyed not just his parents, but his house, and countless others, rebounded off of Harry, stripping Voldemort of his powers, and forcing him into hiding.  You two are the only remaining relatives of Harry's, and I trust that you will take care of him.  Please inform me if there are any problems._

_Sincerely, _

_A__lbus __D__umbledore_

Petunia looked at Vernon fearfully.  He snarled at the baby, who was playing with his blanket.

"We can't have him here.  I'll bring him to an orphanage…." Vernon concluded, and he picked up Harry's cradle.  He started to the car.

"Wait! Vernon! What if they come? What if they come looking for him?"  Petunia panicked.  

Vernon took this into consideration, and brought the boy back.  "But we can't have him being near Dudley, he'll have a bad influence on him…" Vernon stated.

Petunia thought hard, as the brought him in from the sun.  She walked to the family room, where her precious Dudley was resting.  She could just imagine what he would be like if Potter was around him.  She walked back to Vernon, passing the stairs.  She pushed the cupboard door shut as she walked by, then it hit her.

"Vernon," she said, "the cupboard!"

**Four years later.**

Ickle Diddydums, the only name Harry new him by, came running down the stairs.  Sawdust rained on his head, but he brushed it away, and continued to play with a set of multi colored bricks he had found there about two years ago.  He heard Ickle Diddydums walk by his cupboard, and through the small letterbox like door at the top of the bid door, a package fell to the ground.  He had started to creep over to the box, when he heard a banging on his door.  Ickle Diddydums was trying to get in.

"Mummy!" He cried. "My new crayons fell through this slot."  He wailed until his mum came running.  She saw where he was pointing to, and quickly rushed him away, saying, "We'll get you a new, bigger box!" which seemed to cheer Ickle Diddydums up.

Harry picked up the box, and opened it.  He saw many stick things, in different colors, just like his bricks.  He picked up a blood color (recognizing it from when he got spider bites) and put it in his hands.  He set it against the wall, and moved it.  It made a mark, and Harry smiled slightly, and started to draw, letting his memories get the better of him.

**Two days later**

Petunia, making sure that Dudley was gone, unlocked the cupboard door, to her amazement.  Inside the small space, there was a full room mural of some kind of fantasy sport.  She remembered from her _horrible_ sister, that this was a _witch_ game.  There were fourteen players, seven red, seven blue, flying on broomsticks, one holding a red soccer like ball, two holding cricket bats and chasing black balls.  And two, two were chasing a small golden golf ball with wings.  Harry was standing on a small shelf, coloring clouds on the ceiling.

"Vernon," she shouted, "Vernon could you come here?"  Harry looked at her and smiled.  He finished the silver lining that every cloud has, and climbed down to view his masterpiece.  Vernon came to the doorway.  His jaw dropped at the magnificent piece of art.  Neither seemed to have an insult for Harry.  He snuck out under their arms to go to the bathroom.  When he came back, they had filled his water bottle again and given him his dinner.  They pushed him in, and went to talk, leaving the colored sticks there.

**Four years, 363 days later**

Any other mural would have faded, but the one in the cupboard under the stairs remained.  Amazingly, Harry had caused all the colored sticks to regenerate, so he never ran out.  He couldn't figure out how he did it, but it worked.  For a long time, he had been able to touch up, and even get rid of sections to change.  He now had stands filled with people, and three gold rings as goals.  He had no idea what this was, but he remembered it somehow.  He heard the mail slip through the door, and Ickle Diddydums (whose, he learned, name was really Dudley) got it and brought it to the kitchen.  Then there was a shout.

"Dad, who's Harry Potter?" Dudley asked, and Harry's heart jumped.

"I donno, Dudley, eat your bacon."

"Yes you do, dad, it says _Mr. Harry Potter, the Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Surry_.  That's our house, and our…" Dudley trailed off, and ran to the cupboard.  Petunia and Vernon ran after him.  He was standing right in front of the door.

"Mum," he said angrily, "I want you t open this door, and show me who's in there." Petunia sighed, and the door was unlocked.

As the door opened, the light blinded Harry.  Dudley stared at him in disbelief.

"Mum, who is this?" he asked shakily.

"Dudley, this is your cousin, Harry." Vernon said, trying to be nice.  Dudley glared at him, as if to say _Why didn't you ever tell me about him?_ But no words came out.  Instead, he handed the letter to Harry.  Harry took it, and looked at the seal.  It was four animals surrounding an H. He opened it, and Vernon took it.  He read through it, and nodded to Petunia.  Dudley grabbed it, and read through it also.

"You're going to actually let him go?" he asked, still marveling about the fact that he had had a cousin living in his house for the past nine years.

Petunia looked at Vernon.  "We wouldn't have to worry about him…" she pointed out.  Vernon nodded.

"Well, boy, looks like your going to boarding school." He said, and Harry smiled.

**Thirty days later**

They followed the instructions, and sent a letter back to the school, saying that he would be going.  Then they decided that since today was Dudley's annual checkup, that they would bring him to the place to buy his things.  When they arrived, they were outside a record store and a music store, or at least that what it looked like to the Dursleys.  Harry, though, could see a small, dingy pub.  He told them to let him out here, so they stopped.

"See you next summer," Vernon crackled, clearly not seeing the pub.  Harry turned his back, and walked bravely into the pub.  When he entered, the whole congregation within went silent.

"Harry Potter!" they yelled, and they crowded around him, shaking his hand.  He broke through, and saw a pale man wearing a purple turban.

"Harry P-Potter, s-such an honor I-it is," he stuttered.  Harry had no idea who this was, but offered his hand, assuming he wanted to shake it too.  The man avoided it, and walked away, muttering to himself.  Harry went into the backyard, by instinct, and saw that he was facing a brick wall.  He had no idea what to do, and so he sat down. Suddenly the bricks started spinning.  He stood up quickly, and when they stopped, he saw a village, filled with all sorts of things.  The people that had opened the door walked past him, their blood colored hair reminding him of the ball in his picture.  He walked through.  The shop was busy, so he set off to work.  He walked down the street, and at the end he saw a giant marble building.  He walked in, it being the most magnificent.  When he got in, he ran into a giant.  Literally a giant. He dropped something, and Harry quickly bent down to pick it up.  It was very suspicious looking, but he handed it back reluctantly. The man smiled at him.

"Thank yeh!  Well, I'll be, yer 'arry Potter!" he said.  Harry nodded. "Oh, I'm s'posed to give this to yeh."  He handed Harry a key.  "Give it to the goblin at the front, he'll know what to do."  Harry smiled his thanks, and they parted. Harry walked up to the front desk, which stunted him quite a bit, and handed him his key.  The goblin inspected him, then called another goblin over.  This new goblin, even more ugly last got him on a cart.  The cart sped down, deeper and deeper into the ground.  Finally they reached a stop.  The two got out, and the goblin took his key.  He unlocked a stone.  The stone swung open, and it opened into a door.  The sight inside was amazing.  There were heaps of coins, three colors.  He grabbed some of the biggest ones, and then a couple of the smaller ones.  Last he got some of the smallest ones.  He nodded at the goblin, and the door shut.  They went back up to the top floor, and Harry left.

He walked up and down the streets.  The next store he went in was ones with heavy square things.  These were books.  They Dursleys had never had any books.  He gave his list to the attendant and the attendant got the necessary books for him.  Harry smiled his thanks, and left.  Next there was a store with black pots, called cauldrons.  He bought a pewter cauldron, which he supposed was on his list, and a set of _brass scales_ and _telescopes._  He bought the ones that the attendant told him he'd need, and soon learned the money names.  The great _gold_ ones were _Galleons_, the smaller _silver_ ones were _Sickles_, and the smallest _bronze_ ones were _Knuts._  He left, and the attendant told him to visit the _Apothecary_.  Harry asked a young girl, and she said it was the ones with the bad smell. He smiled at her, and went to the reeking store.  There the employee helped him get the right supplies for _Hogwarts_, which was the school.  Then he went to a clothes store, where he met another boy.

"Hogwarts too?" he asked as Harry stood on a stool.  Harry nodded.

"My father's next door buying books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy.  He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms.  I don't see why first years can't have their own.  I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Have _you_ got your own broom?' the boy went on.

Harry shook his head.

  
"Play Quidditch at all?" 

Harry shook his head, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"_I _do—Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree.  Know what house you'll be in yet?"

Harry shook his head, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, al of our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Harry shrugged, and soon, the plump _witch_ that had let him in came back.  "That's you done, my dear," she said.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," the drawling boy said.

Harry got back out on the street, his trunk he had gotten getting heavier.  He remembered the boy mentioning _wands_, so he headed up the street.  He saw a store with little sticks in it, so he entered.  A bell rang quietly.  The store was empty.  Harry walked up to the desk, and he felt odd.  He felt as if everything in the room was _enchanted _(a word he learned at the book store).  He looked around.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice.  Harry jumped, and nodded hello.

"Ah, yes," said the man, "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question.  "You have your mother' eyes.  It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first want.  Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow.  Nice for charm work."

The man moved closer to Harry.  Harry wished he could blink.  Those _silvery_ eyes were a bit creepy. 

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand.  Eleven inches.  Pliable.  A little more power and excellent for transfiguration.  Well, I say your father favored it—it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

The man had come so close that he had Harry were almost nose to nose.  Harry could see himself in those eyes.

"And that's where…"

The man touched Harry's scar.  Harry remembered that now, and wanted to ask what had happened.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly.  "Thirteen-and-a-half inches.  Yew.  Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrongs hands…well, if I had know what that wand was going out into the world to do…" He trailed off, and only now did Harry speak up.

"Sir," he said, his voice tiny, "What did happen that night?"

The wizard looked at him oddly.  "You don't know?" he asked curiously.  Harry shook his head.  The man, whom Harry still didn't know the name of shook his head and sighed.

"I never thought it would be like this." He sat down, "it all started a couple of years ago.  A dark wizard named Voldemort," the man shivered at this name, "started gathering followers.   They came, some too afraid, some wanted power. They were dark days, Harry, dark days.  You didn't know whom to trust.  Couldn't dare getting friendly with foreign wizard or witches.  Terrible, terrible things happened.  He was taking over.  Of course, fair few stood up to him, but he just killed them ruthlessly.  Now, your mother and father, Lily and James were the best witch and wizard around. They were Head boy and Girl at Hogwarts their seventh year.  You-Know-Who (what we call him instead of his name) never tried to get them on their side; they were too close to Dumbledore.  We (The rest of the Wizarding World) thought they were perfectly safe, until Halloween, ten years ago, he arrived at the house, and…" Harry had an unwelcome sense of foreboding, "he killed them.  The most curious thing was though, when he turned his wand on you (He must have loved killing by then), and when the curse hit you, it rebounded on to him…  The curse that had killed some of the best magic folk of the day, the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts, and even your parents and your house.  But you lived.  You're the boy who lived, Harry."

Harry spoke again.  "What happened to Vol…err...You-know-who?"

The man smiled gently.  "Some say he died, but I think otherwise.  I say he's still out there, waiting for the opportune moment…"

The man finished talking, and something painful was going on in Harry's head.  He saw a blinding green light, and a high, malicious laugh in the background.  Harry shivered, and then looked back up at the man.  He asked him more about the Wizarding world.  Like 'What is Hufflepuff and Slytherin?' and 'What is Quidditch?'.  They talked until it was dark, then the man remembered what he was supposed to me doing.

"Your wand!" he exclaimed.  He hustled about, grabbing wands and throwing them into Harry's hands.  Wand after wand, but none worked.  Finally, the man grabbed a box that looked like it was built for two.

"I wonder…" he spoke to himself.  He handed the remaining wand to Harry, and Harry waved it.  Blue and bronze sparks flew out of it, and the man cheered.  Harry smiled too, and the man spoke once again.

"Curious, very curious."

Harry couldn't resist.  "Sorry, but what's curious?" he asked.

"All the Ollivanders have long term memories, Mr. Potter, me not excluded. I remember every wand I ever sold.  It just so happens that the phoenix feather that resides in your wand gave another feather.  Just one feather.  It is curious to me that you should get this wand (for the wand chooses the wizard, remember that) when it brother…gave you that scar…" Harry smiled falsely at him, and paid.  He hastily remembered his name, Ollivander, so if he wanted to, he could send him something.

Harry plopped onto a bed in the little pub, which, he learned, was the Leaky Cauldron.  He sighed, in his first month in the real world, he was learning things, and he couldn't wait to learn more tomorrow…


End file.
